206 Kingston Street
Jude Evans, a rebellious teenager, runs away from his abusive parents and takes the bus to Philadelphia to start a life of his own. With no job, no money and nowhere to stay, Jude is relieved when he gets a ride with Leslie Diaz, a friendly, talkative girl his own age. She tells him of a place he can stay: an abandoned shop whose owners disappeared over twenty years ago. But the shop was never abandoned. Behind a locked door, Jude and Leslie discover the library of a spiritualist philosopher, Edgar Ross, and letters between him and an Annabel Castou. Jude wonders why these letters sit in a drawer in an abandoned shop; and wonders why the library is locked from the inside; and wonders what happened to Edgar Ross, Annabel, and the shop owners.
Finding clues: a woman crying in the night, a trapdoor leading to the attic, a journal telling of Annabel’s death, Jude and Leslie stumble upon a twenty-year-old murder.
Along the way, Jude searches for the meaning of life, of death, and of love.
206 Kingston Street
by Daniel Philbin
Published by MuseItUp Publishing at Smashwords
Copyright 2011 Daniel Philbin
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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Dedication
To Sharon Niederman, who mentored me considerably with this story, and to my family, who gave support and encouragement.
Chapter One
Philadelphia
Jude Evans scanned the newspaper headlines as the bus rumbled north, toward Philadelphia. Gnarled branches of bare trees flashed past, surrounding Interstate 90 like a tunnel. A crush of cars inched north around the bus, and Jude looked down at their roofs from his perch. The grumbling engine, the horns of cars sounding, and the loud, crude jokes of some black men sitting a few rows back, all filled the bus. Jude listened to hip-hop on his headphones, trying to drown it all out. He flipped the page of the newspaper, which he borrowed from an old man on the bus, and noticed an interesting article.
New Evidence Points to Murder!
Mr. and Mrs. Harold Gray, who once owned a small shop here in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, were reported to have mysteriously disappeared some twenty years ago. According to an article written at that time, “their twenty-year-old daughter remembered having a conversation with her parents on the night of the eighth (of June). The next day, Mr. Gray didn’t show up to work. After a week, police investigated their shop, (where they lived in an upper-story apartment) only to find it empty, completely abandoned. After further investigation, with no leads, the bank took possession of the shop and sold it for a low price. News spread that the house possessed ill omens, that it was haunted, and no one wanted it. Of course, the shop was also very old and prospective buyers complained of leaks in the roof, rotting wood, and peeling plaster.”
Police have been inquiring into the Grays’ whereabouts for years, suspecting criminal involvement, but finding nothing. “I had my suspicions,” says ex-police officer, Frederick Gallinger.
However, yesterday afternoon, while digging a foundation for a new building on Charles Street, a construction crew discovered clothes, a wallet, and other personal belongings, as well as license plates, which police traced to a car the Grays once owned.
Police are still investigating but so far, have found no more evidence.
Jude folded the paper and dropped it on the seat next to him, unable to focus on his reading. The heaters of the bus hummed, and a man next to Jude, covered in tattoos, gnawed on a stick of gum. Still, Jude didn’t blame these distractions on his lack of focus. He reached into his small backpack at his feet and pulled out a sketchbook. The cardboard cover was peeling away from the binding. He flipped it open and looked at the pencil sketches he had drawn so long ago. The first showed his mother, staring at some place beyond the picture, holding a cigarette to her lips. Her hair was messy and stringy, her eyes red, and a long cut slashed her cheek bone. She was beautiful once, but now she looked tired, her face wrinkled and grey.
Jude flipped the page over to study his father. He had a thick neck and small eyes, with blond hair. He was not bad looking, though his slightly cocky sneer was not pleasant to behold. The next two sketches were of the liquor store and a casino, and Jude related the three pictures like a triptych. The next sketch was of a broken chair lying against the wall. He sketched it years ago because he wanted to draw something broken and discover how each sliver looked. He hadn’t realized when he had drawn it that it would be used as evidence for the police against his father.
The next picture was of the hospital waiting room, the glaring fluorescent lights, the secretary typing at her computer, a young child, about six, a few years younger than Jude was at the time, playing with a toy car. Jude remembered that late night, getting dragged out of bed because he wasn’t allowed to stay home alone, and could still hear the whine of his father’s voice apologizing to his wife yet again.
Jude closed the sketchbook and stuck it back in his pack then pulled out his phone. There was only one message, from his friend, Matt. His parents still didn’t realize, or care, that he was gone.
The message simply said, “You got fired again?”
Jude flipped the phone shut, pulled his glasses off his nose, and massaged his face. What a life! Since he was old enough to apply, Jude worked at fast food restaurants solely to spend as much time as possible away from his parents. He hated listening to his mom complain and his parents fight. And he often got into long arguments with them. He remembered arguing about everything from chores, to school, even religion. Jude wasn’t sure whether or not he believed in God but wanted to find out and asked to go to church. His parents refused to inconvenience themselves, and Jude started attending with his friend, Sam Kipfer, and his parents.
Jude learned everything academic from school and everything else from Sam’s parents. They were missionaries for years and finally settled in Atlanta, sending Sam to the same school Jude attended. Jude ate dinner with the Kipfers almost every night, drove with them to school every morning, and spent all his free time with Sam.
But then, much to Jude’s disappointment, the family left to do missionary work in India. He still remembered that depressing day as he watched their plane lift off from the ground. Since then, he was doomed to spend much more time with his parents, though he made excuses to stay at school and hang out with his friends as much as possible.
Jude, shivering with cold, stared out the window, watching cars with Virginia, New Jersey, Delaware, and Pennsylvania license plates zoom by. He listened to the engine and the throbbing of tires.
Now what? He had little money, few possessions, and absolutely nowhere to go. His dad had grown up with a variety of foster parents, so visiting grandparents on that side was out; his mother’s parents lived in Oregon and had stopped talking to her ever since she “ran off” and married a man they disapproved of when she was only slightly older than Jude was now. She had a sister, Julia, who lived in New Mexico with four children. Her husband had recently died in a car accident. Unable to decide where else to go, Jude took the first bus he could, headed northeast, without a clue what he wanted to do with his freedom. Philadelphia would be his last stop, but he was trying to decide what to do there besides have a large ham and turkey sandwich in celebration of his liberty and find a motel.
In contrast to the stifling interior of the bus, a drizzling snow fell outside from the dark, scowling sky. The trees grew scarce, and all around the highway were buildings: houses, stores, gas stations, restaurants, parking lots…the buildings seemed to make up a never ending forest. Philadelphia. This was as far away from home as he had ever traveled.
The bus jolted as it rolled over a bridge, and Jude hoped they would arrive soon. His stomach pleaded for food, and he wished he’d eaten something more substantial than a granola bar, some mints, and a soft drink since last night. What had he been thinking? But that was just it, he hadn’t been.
Jude’s mom was mad because she worked all the time, and his father spent a large amount of their money on alcohol. His dad, drunk, had screamed in turn. After all the shouting, and his dad breaking plates and chairs against the walls, Jude ran out and spent at least three hours in the car, as he sometimes did, sitting in the parking lot before he thought it safe to go inside. He lay awake on the couch for another hour or two until he decided to pack and leave. Feeling nothing but anger and hatred, he took his dad’s suitcase out of the closet, threw all his clothes in and then packed his books, sketch books, mints, music CDs, and the money he earned from working. The suitcase was packed so tightly, he had also stuffed a plastic grocery bag with food and carried his sleeping bag separately. He left while his parents were still asleep, feeling like a thief.
Jude felt the bus slow and pulled his headphones out. The voice of the bus driver floated down the aisle. “We’re arriving in Chester, Pennsylvania.”
Jude stuffed his headphones into his backpack. The bus pulled off the Interstate, and descended the off-ramp. Jude stood up and stumbled around the man with the tattoos. He clutched the metal bar running parallel with the luggage rack to keep from losing his balance as the bus slowed. Through the windows, he saw small, two-story houses huddled together and a gas station next to the Turnpike. The bus came to a stop, and the doors opened with a hiss. Jude let go of the bar, grabbed his suitcase, and swung it down from the rack before making his way to the front. He felt ridiculous with his backpack and the suitcase he dragged behind him. Wheeling the luggage down the narrow aisle to the door was arduous.
As he waited for passengers to clamber off the bus, Jude pulled on a heavy coat and zipped it up. He lifted the luggage down each step in an awkward crab-walk. Icy air burned Jude’s face. He shivered, dragging his suitcase as he stepped up onto the sidewalk. The drizzling snow caressed his skin, sending shivers crawling over his arms. Near the bus, the gas station sat on the corner of the street, nestled amongst clustered two-story houses. Several pairs of headlights flooded over the street. Jude stood on the corner, watching as the doors of the bus closed with a small hiss, and the passengers began dispersing.
Starving, Jude walked down the street, looking for a restaurant, café, or store where he could buy something to eat.
Jude passed under the turnpike, hurrying through the darkness. Graffiti crawled over the surfaces of the pillars holding up the highway, and a beer bottle lay broken on the sidewalk. He heard traffic zooming past overhead.
He checked his watch. Eight thirty. He sighed, dragging his fingers through his long hair. He felt tired, hungry, and frustrated. He was in an unfamiliar city with no plan. Perhaps he should just find a motel and order some pizza.
He strode along a wide avenue shivering, wishing he was inside a car with a heater warming him.
As he walked, he held out his thumb, wondering how safe this was in such a large city.
Jude pulled his large suitcase along, the wheels bumping over the cracks in the sidewalk, his breath escaping in clouds of steam.
The air burned his face, and his coat felt insufficient. The street ran between the turnpike and several old brick buildings, into the distance. As he plodded down the broad street, a car honked. He craned his neck to see a yellow 1980 Volkswagen Beetle pull to the side of the road next to him.
Chapter Two
Leslie
He waited as the car rolled to a stop at the side of the road. Jude pulled the passenger door open. In the driver’s seat sat a very pretty girl Jude guessed to be about his age. She had short brown hair highlighted blond and red and wore tight jeans and a sweater.
The seats were old and torn, covered in wadded blankets, books, papers, and trash.
“Are you getting in?”
Jude nodded, shoved his suitcase onto the pile of junk on the back seat, and then pulled his backpack off. He tossed it back, before clearing the junk off the passenger seat. He quickly slid into the seat and slammed the door shut, grateful to be some place warm. For a moment all he did was massage his numb fingers, attempting to warm them.
The car pulled forward.
“Where are you going?”
“Um…I guess just a motel.”
The girl eyed him uncertainly, but Jude said nothing, leaning back in the seat, hugging himself. Warm air blew from the vents at his face and legs.
“I’m Leslie. Leslie Diaz.”
“Jude.” He wasn’t really sure what to say, so he remained silent, staring at the road ahead of him.
“Don’t you have a car?”
Jude shrugged. “Eh, no. Er, I mean, it’s with my parents. Or, actually it’s my parents’ car.”
“Yeah, I get it. Can’t they pick you up?”
Jude thought of another lie to cover the first. He didn’t feel like explaining his entire story to her. “Eh…they’re at work.”
Leslie accelerated even though they had reached the speed limit.
“Yeah,” she said. “I have a job in Wilmington, but our house is up here a ways, so…”
“Oh,” Jude said, finally beginning to warm up, pushed back in his seat. The speedometer read sixty-eight.
“Yeah, I’m coming back from a trip with some friends,” Jude said, thinking of an excuse for the suitcase. “Me and some friends went to D.C., you know, to see everything there and stuff. My family lives in New York, so I plan to spend the night here before going home.” He realized how ridiculous this sounded, but it was the best he could come up with.
Leslie nodded, speeding around a semi-truck carelessly.
“Kind o’ bad planning.”
Jude attempted a smile but wasn’t sure how it looked.
“Pretty gutsy hitch-hiking in Philadelphia at eight thirty. I mean, why do they call this place the city of brotherly love? It’s kind of stupid naming it that. Maybe it was nicer in the eighteenth century, or whenever. I guess it’s probably not that bad compared to New York City, huh?”
Jude nodded. “Yeah, not really.”
He continued to stare out the window as they raced forward, passing cars that Jude guessed were also going over the speed limit. They stopped accelerating and maintained a constant speed of eighty-six miles per hour.
“What music do you like?” Leslie asked, fingering the radio.
Jude shrugged. “I don’t know. Hip hop, I guess. I don’t really have a specific band I like or anything, but…what about you?”
“I like The Beatles a lot. But, who doesn’t, right?”
Jude smiled. He knew his friend Matt loved them, but he had never really enjoyed their songs. They always stuck in his head.
“I like several other bands, but mostly The Beatles,” Leslie continued. “I actually used one of their songs as an idea for mine.”
Jude looked at her. “What, you write music? How old are you?”
Leslie grinned. “Seventeen. It’s not that amazing.”
Jude shook his head.
“Yeah, I started taking guitar lessons when I was five. My parents really encouraged it, and I’ve been playing ever since. I’m not sure if their support made me like it more, or not, but I always have. I’ve written ten songs so far.”
“Cool,” Jude said. He wondered how good they were. “Yeah, I’ve never been musical at all.” He suddenly realized this was a sure way to end a conversation and wished he had said something else. “No one would sit next to me in church because I never could hold a note. I’ve always liked art more.”
“So you draw?”
“Yeah. Mostly like, sketches and stuff.” Jude was starting to relax. He had warmed up in the car and enjoyed talking to this girl about their passions “Black and white pencil drawings, stuff like that. But I do some watercolor, too.”
“Oh, that’s--” Leslie was interrupted by a jazz cell phone ring, and she dug her fingers in one of the cup holders searching for the phone.
“Hello?”
Jude fell silent, staring out the window.
“I’m an hour late? It’s only eight thirty, isn’t it?”
Leslie paused, and Jude could barely hear a loud voice on the other end. He felt slightly awkward.
To the left, he saw a motel flash past. He glanced over at it and tried to communicate to Leslie to stop, but she seemed oblivious.
“I was supposed to be there at seven thirty? You said…”
Jude wondered where the motel was but decided it didn’t really matter.
“I’m on my way now…I said I was leaving. That means I was telling my boss I was about to leave. I still have to…”
Leslie swerved around a car and passed onto a bridge. “Yeah, we just passed over the Darby River…Yeah, we. I picked up this guy who was hitch-hiking.”
Jude heard the voice on the other end rise, and he winced.
“Dad, it’s okay. He just couldn’t get a ride. He’s fine. Just a few tattoos, piercings…” She winked at Jude. Jude attempted a smile.
He heard the voice on the other line shout, “Leslie!”
“No, Dad, I’m kidding. Just kidding. I’ll be home in a bit. See you.” She quickly flipped the phone shut and dropped it back into the cup holder.
“Your dad?” Jude asked.
“Yeah. I don’t have a mom anymore, and Dad is just overly worried about me all the time…I mean, I’m seventeen, right? In his eyes, I’m still the little baby of the family. I mean, my older sisters grew up, didn’t they? He seems to think I’m the only one who doesn’t grow at all.”
Jude could tell she was getting riled up. “Doesn’t he understand my point of view? He wouldn’t even let me take a class at the junior college here until I, like, begged him for a couple of weeks. He’s always reluctant when I go out and do stuff with my friends, and he still thinks it’s a bad idea for me to have this job.”
Jude listened to her complain, wishing his own parents cared as much.
“I’ve sort of stopped asking him and just do whatever I want, but of course that makes him even more ang…” She sighed and looked at Jude. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I know what you mean.” He didn’t have an idea what it was like, of course, but did know what it felt like to be frustrated with his parents.
“Your parents never let you do anything, either?”
Jude shook his head. “Not exactly.”
Leslie looked at him as though expecting him to continue, but Jude remained quiet.
“What?” she asked.
Jude stared out the window, afraid his face would betray his past. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to keep it a secret.
“My parents…” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
“What?”
Part of him wanted to keep it a secret, but another part wanted to tell Leslie, this girl he didn’t even know, so that someone other than himself, someone in this world knew how he felt.
“You know, I lied about having friends who live in Chester.”
Leslie smiled slightly. “I thought you might have.”
Jude flushed, annoyed that he had been read so easily.
He sighed again, looking out the window. “My mom’s a workaholic, my dad’s an alcoholic, and neither of them care about anything I do.”
He kept his gaze fixed on the road flashing past them, afraid to meet Leslie’s eyes. His emotions, building up since last night, rose suddenly to the surface. “Seriously! I could rob a bank and get thrown in jail, and they wouldn’t do anything.” He looked back at Leslie who kept glancing piteously at him. He continued, releasing all the frustration and anger brewing inside him. “My dad would continue drinking, glad that at least there was one less mouth to feed, or not even noticing at all, and my mom would be too busy working to pay for the gambling and drinks my dad uses it for, smoking, and thinking I deserved what I got, which I guess, if I stole from a bank…”
“Jude.”
Jude’s hands trembled, and he stared out the window intently again. “I’m not even from New York.”
There was a long silence, save the quiet music still emanating from the radio and the throbbing of tires on pavement.
“Did…did you run away?”
Jude nodded, trying to blink back tears, his heart pounding furiously. “Yeah, and until two days ago, I lived in an apartment with my parents in Atlanta, Georgia.”
Leslie looked concerned. “But, then…after tonight, where are you going to stay? What are you going to do?”
Jude shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe get an apartment and a job to pay for it, but…”
There was silence again, and he heard the occasional honking of horns outside the car. Buildings were everywhere and up ahead were tall, important looking buildings. They were far away, but he guessed the shortest was about twenty stories tall.
“Do your parents know?”
Jude let out a sharp laugh. “I doubt it. If they did, I doubt they’d care, like I said.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Leslie looked a bit awkward, unsure of what to say. Jude didn’t blame her. He remained silent. Industrial power plants and gray buildings surrounded the road. Beyond he saw water, colorless beneath the dark sky.
“Hey, um, I think I might know of a place you can stay.”
Jude looked over at her hopefully.
“It’s not much, but…it’s this old abandoned shop or something. My friends and I used to throw rocks at the windows when we were little.”
Jude smiled.
“I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’s pretty well insulated, and there’s an old wood stove in there. My friends and I fixed it up a little before we stopped using it.”
Jude thought for a moment. “Where is it?”
“Not far from my house.”
Jude nodded. The shop probably wouldn’t be extremely comfortable, but he didn’t have much money, and rent here surely was outrageous. If he had a place to stay, he could look for a job without having to worry. He imagined himself in a dusty, empty room huddled around a small furnace, his suitcase in a corner, with no furniture. He could at least stay there the night.
“Can you take me there?”
Leslie smiled. “Yeah.”
Jude smiled.
They drove on in silence for awhile, and Jude thought about his parents. He felt embarrassed for sharing so much about himself.
Buildings thinned to the right, revealing a wide river, like a wide, meandering lake.
“Where exactly do you live?” Jude asked.
“Just next to the Schuylkill River.”
“Uh…”
“You know, the river flowing into the Delaware from the west? It’s not far.”
The Volkswagen zipped past more buildings, and Jude saw an airport off to the right. A sea of cars made a square in a parking lot near a large flat building and the runways.
“How far is the shop?”
“About four miles.”
There was silence again. Jude wasn’t sure what to say. He still regretted telling Leslie his problems. All that could be heard was the quiet whisper of music from the stereo and the whine of the engine.
“Have you ever been to Philadelphia before?” Leslie asked.
Jude was grateful for the return to conversation. “No. The farthest I’ve been from Atlanta is Jackson, Mississippi.”
“Really?” Leslie asked. “I’ve been all over the U.S. We used to live in Colorado before my mom died. We have relatives in Wisconsin, and I have two older sisters who moved out. One lives in California, and we visit her from time to time. Then another sister lives in North Carolina.”
“You see them a lot?”
“Eh…I guess.”
Jude nodded. “You’re lucky to have sisters.”
Leslie shrugged. “They’re gone, so it’s sort of like just seeing your cousins.”
Jude shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. The only cousins I have are, like, ten years younger than me and live in New Mexico. My parents never really go anywhere.”
Leslie nodded.
“What are your sisters like?” Jude asked.
“One, Michelle, that’s the one who lives in California, is sort of like me. She’s in the middle, between me and Erin, and we used to get in a lot of trouble together. She likes having fun. Erin is more serious, which can be a good thing, I guess, sort of quiet. She’s trying to finish her master’s degree in English.”